Habren the Igniter
by Duinhiril Telcontar
Summary: Two lineages course through her blood-both of elf and Maia. The tenth of a Fellowship that journeyed to end the reign of a great Evil. But as the waters beckon with a promise of a power uncalled in its wake, she is left to drown in her own self; and all she sees is the eagle of fire she'd spawned, burning bright and morose upon the Gates of Mordor.
1. Prologue

_ **In memory of those whom I love,**_

_ **who have now gone to the West.** _

_...The night will not wait for day_

_The guiding sun cannot always stay_

_The deeper parts where darkness thrives,  
The inner corners where the shadow dives_

_Snuff out the life that is swathed in river_

_Drag her into the cool of the water_

_Drag her…_

_Drag her deep…_

_Into the water…_

_Where darkness thrives…_

_~~~HABREN THE IGNITER~~~_

The monotonous, thundering gallops of a stallion were muted by the rushing green fields, steps never ceasing and ever going. Upon the steed sat an aged man older than what one may at first perceive. Garbed in a humble robe of grey and a pointed blue hat of that of a wizard sat on his long grey hair. He was Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir to the Elves, Tharkun to the Dwarves and Olorin in his youth. In his blue eyes rested still a wisdom cultured by the many ages.

Having finished visiting his dear old hobbit friend Bilbo, now very much far away from the Shire, the wandering wizard had departed with set destinations in mind, to where he would plan to tread to no one really knew. But much to his surprise, his laid out intentions had to be halted for a while.

The hooves of his horse had stopped by his command and he quickly dismounted. Something, he sensed, what not right with the river. The Anduin seemed restless, waves constantly overlapping and shifting like hands transferring the weight of cargo to the next person. His bushy eyebrows furrowed. "What makes the Anduin restless so?" He questions to himself.

And lo and behold Gandalf made out a figure floating in the distance through his still furrowed brows. The figure was an elf, a teen in their own terms, drifting away as if left for dead. Alarmed, the grey wizard waded into the water in his haste, breaking the connection she had to the continuous current as he buffered her with the length of his staff and treaded for the shore. He grew more alarmed when he saw the familiar features on her face.

"Habren!"

Then her eyes shot wide open like waking from a fear; a fear that only the darkest nightmares can etch. The elleth leaped away from the wizard, grasping desperately for a sword that wasn't there, unable to tell friend from foe. Her soaked self gleamed a faint liquid gold in the sunlight, ebony black hair glued and framing her face in a tangled mishap, warm brown eyes gone cold and wild. The river raged on.

She spoke in a sharp Sindarin, _"Away spawn of Mordor!"_

_Mordor. _The name of the damned land sent a sharp chill across Gandalf's spine and the blood underneath the skin on his aged face drained swift. "Make no such direct mention of that place while this land still knows an ounce of peace!" But like thunder, the anger came –and went. His expression shifted slowly into concern and confusion –confusion to what has driven this elf girl mad. His words smoothed calmly towards her. "Be at peace, Habren, and tell me what has happened."

Suddenly it had dawned on the elf that the bearded old man before her would do her no harm. "_Mithrandir," _The color in her eyes grew warmer and less animal-like as tense shoulders descended a level and relaxed, only to have them rise up again as she wrapped her freezing arms around herself, shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Her knees buckled and she knelt hard onto the riverbank, a few stray sediments scraping at her knees. No wails came from her voice, only the occasional gasps for air that came from crying born of a memory too painful to be heard from.

The grey wizard rushed to her side, placing a supportive hand on the presently fragile elleth. He gave her words of comfort as he waited for her to fill her own cup of tears, feeling the dampness find his robes. When he felt the barricading tension had passed away he released her and asked softly, "Habren, you need to tell me everything. Why did you mention _that _place?"

The elf, Habren, looked at the wizard with eyes looking as dead as the river behind them, because for the passing time, nothing dared to move in the Anduin. The words barely escaped her lips.

"I've just been there."

A dark cloud of foreboding crept over the wizard. "What brought you there?"

"We were made aware that a powerful ally is starting to find the side of Sauron much more favorable, so our people sent a small team to infiltrate the Black Land. It was a risky task, but we needed to know who among our allies are still trustworthy, with the growing threat of darkness closing in on our heels. Long story short… I was the only one who made it." Habren then stood up from where she was and wandered further onto the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the still waters. Gandalf could not read her face. "We were only two. Just me and Gilras."

Gandalf felt his heart fall heavy, knowing very much who the ellon was, unable to say anything but, "Eru above."

"What's more?" the elleth continued. "My mother followed us. And now she's dead! They're both dead!"

The wizard did not falter from where he stood. When the silence that followed could not be tolerated any longer he stepped forward. "Let us find your father—"

"No!" She immediately hollered, turning sharply towards his direction. "I dare not face my father, after all I have failed to do."

Gandalf sighed, brooding on how difficult the elleth was being. "It seems I cannot deter your decision as of the moment. Well, I certainly cannot leave you here to your own devices. It would be best if you journey with me. Though I cannot guarantee that we would not run into your father."

Habren gave the wizard a contemplating look, though Gandalf doubted she was thinking about his offer. But nonetheless she nodded to him with a sad yet thankful face,_ "Hannon le," _

Gandalf softly smiled. "I will give you a moment to yourself. Find me when you are ready and I shall tell you where we are going. You will need to tell me more of your account in detail as well."

The elleth turned her back on the wizard and faced the river yet again, the current finally starting to pick up.


	2. The Shire

All was tranquil in Sarn Ford.

It may not be able to compete with the grandeur that was Minas Tirith, or the magnificence that was Rivendell, but Habren loved it just as much. The trees sprayed the backdrop with a warm golden hue. Green rolling hills against a bright blue sky. Everything was quiet, excluding the soft gurgling of the Brandywine River and the lazy chirping of the nesting birds. Yes, she thought to herself as a breeze flew around her face. This was the song of peace.

"May it last for as long as possible." She muttered.

It was ten minutes later when the elleth got up, the wind tugging lightly at her weathered garb. She never really bothered having them replaced, no matter how many times the others would try ease her into their perspectives. She made her way to camp at her own pace, slow and steady. Gathering little of what she possessed she slung the satchel over her body and made her way to a man who overlooked the entire campsite.

"Halbarad, _mellon nin._" The elleth greeted. "It is about time I departed."

The Ranger turned to her with a sad smile. "I had the slightest feeling today would be the day. Where will you be meeting Gandalf, Habren?"

"The Three Farthing Stones. Apparently, we will be attending a party."

Halbarad raises a curious brow upwards. "I never would have thought you a partygoer."

"That thought will certainly change soon." Habren chuckled softly. "I will no doubt meet this Bilbo Baggins my teacher speaks of so highly."

"Bilbo Baggins?" Halbarad started. "You will be in for an interesting September. Well, I best call the others to see you off."

"Oh no, Halbarad! I wouldn't want to bother them."

But the Dunedain laughs. "The others will certainly take it against you should you whisk yourself away in broad daylight without receiving their good-byes. You are going to be missed, Habren."

The elleth softly smiled.

With farewells far behind her and embraces and caring words still warm within, the elleth walked down the dusty road. Not the most convenient way of travelling, but she wouldn't want to be lent one of their horses. The journey wasn't too tiring though, her body so accustomed to constant travel. Going from one place to another, not belonging anywhere. It was amazing to see the Three Farthing Stone for the first time, towering over her like a protective guardian, casting a great dark shadow like a concealing veil. It didn't take long to hear a familiar voice humming a tune at his own leisure from the horizon, bringing with him the creaking rhythm of his cart and a bright promise of fireworks.

"Gandalf!" Habren darted forward the moment the face underneath that pointed blue hat was splashed with afternoon sunlight, a grin evident on his face. Hopping onto the cart effortlessly she threw her arms around the wizard in an embrace.

"Dear Habren." Chuckled Gandalf. "Just one month and you miss me already!" The elleth smiles. The two were quickly off, following one of the many minor roads of the Shire.

"Hobbiton, am I right?" asked Habren who already was staring off into the distant scenery.

"Correct." Replied Gandalf. "You will be most delighted, Habren. The endless rolling green hills, the quaintest houses, the most precious flowerbeds and the most interesting folk you will ever meet!"

"I have never met a hobbit before," Habren admitted thoughtfully. "But I cannot shake the fact that you seem to be advertising about it quite profoundly. I can only think of an ulterior motive in mind."

Gandalf could not contain his laughter. "Must you think all my motives ulterior? No, Habren, you will learn to appreciate the Shire as quickly as I have learned to love it."

And Habren did. She loved it when they traveled in one cart; it gave them the time to paint landscapes into their memories. "I remember every place I've been to. Every place had its own beautiful individuality. I cannot shake the fact that all of this can just slip away, gone like it never was."

The wizard raised a brow. "Pessimistic, aren't we? As of the moment there is nothing we can do. All we can do is hope that _thing _will never emerge into anyone's life again. "

Habren remained silent to soak up the thought, her head to the forested walls lining the sides of the road. "I hear footsteps… " She murmured. With a smirk she leaped out of the cart and vanished into the trees. Gandalf shook his head as he laughed softly, placing his long wooden pipe to his lips. "How the youth has returned to her..."

With the elleth no longer in sight, Gandalf was able to notice someone emerge from above a low cliff. Dark brown hair curled all around his face, framing big bright blue eyes like sapphires. He was short in stature with large hairy feet with leathery soles. A hobbit, and Habren would not deny it from the view of her hiding place.

"You're late." Said the hobbit with crossed arms.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins." Gandalf started to reply sternly. "Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to!"

Mock tension built between both parties, having torn asunder by sudden laughter. The Halfling jumped from the ledge to embrace the wizard. "It's wonderful to see you, Gandalf!" Habren could not help but smirk. Both Frodo and she had the same way of greeting the wizard.

Gandalf chuckles. "You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's Birthday? Frodo, there is someone I would like you to meet."

"Good morning!"

Frodo shot up in alarm when Habren spoke from behind him. The hobbit's bright blue eyes grew so wide Habren became even more amused, his eyes immediately shifting to her pointed ears. "An elf!" The elf laughed, brushing the leaves off her hair that had recently caught her attention. "A hobbit!"

Frodo laughed as well. "My Uncle has told me a great deal about your kind. Do you come from Rivendell? Or perhaps from another place?"

"I come from nowhere." Stated Habren. "I am one of those elves who choose not to stay in one place for a very long time. Though recently, I had decided tagging along with Gandalf the most befitting of me."

"I see. I guess you will be attending the party, then?"

The elleth's eyebrows furrowed. "If it is alright with you and your Uncle."

"It is quite alright! Bilbo was always aware Gandalf was bringing his own guest! The more the merrier!'"

Habren laughed. "As much as I would like to talk with you, I am sure you are more than willing to catch up with a dear friend. Gandalf, are you willing to set me free?"

"How old are you Habren?" the wizard amused. "You may do as you please!"

"Thank you. If I may, Frodo?" she asked the hobbit for permission.

He smiled. "I will be seeing you soon, Habren." both seemingly forgetting formalities with each other. Not that it seemed to matter (seeing how easily they have been acquainted)

Habren darted off with light feet, relishing every step that took her deeper into the world of Hobbits. It was most odd, having skirted so close to the Shire before, not knowing of the curious folk who dwelled there. The other hobbits were curious of her as well, seeing an elf for probably the first time in their quiet lives. The Shire was somewhat of uncharted land, only a few are aware of the existence of its people. Some looked at her in bafflement, some looked at her with discontent. It was all mixed feelings with them –well, except maybe for the children, who were clearly more than delighted.

But nonetheless, Hobbiton was certainly a beautiful place. Every thing was simple, yet every little thing possessed an undeniable uniqueness. The elleth had never seen a place like this similar to the other villages she has been to. Their houses with big circular doors burrowed into them, fresh air, humble patches of farmland, plots of bright colored flowers. She even remembered the big field of wheat golden in harvest. And when she saw the party reception, with many hobbits setting up tents and food and drinks, she felt excitement build up skyward.

Habren started to walk up the path that swirled around the largest hill, knowing fully what was waiting for her on the top. Burrowed cozily into the hill sat a hobbit-hole burnished with a bright green door, the knob placed snuggly in the middle. This was Bag End, the ideal home for any hobbit. The elleth neared the low gate that she could easily hop over, a light sprinkle of garden flowers lined the fence around it. Nailed onto the gate read,

_No admittance_

_exception party business_

Resisting the urge to defy it and impolitely leap over the fence, Habren sat next to it and waited for the others.

"There you are, Gandalf! Where did Frodo go?"

"I hope you haven't been waiting too long, Habren. Frodo went off a few moments ago. You'll see him later in the party. But let us go now! We are yet to meet our celebrant."

Both went towards the door. Gandalf knocked on it with the end of his staff. A rather annoyed voice shot from the inside. "No, thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

But Gandalf suggested, "And what about very old friends?"

The door slowly creaked open, revealing an older-looking hobbit with curly grey hair that once was a dark brown hue. "Gandalf?"

"Bilbo Baggins!"

The two men embraced and released each other still laughing. "It's good to see you." Said Gandalf. "One hundred and eleven years old, who would believe it!" then the wizard seems to notice something with his old friend's face, his voice filled with wonder and amazement. "You haven't aged a day."

That line caused Habren to baffle. Bilbo was a hundred and eleven yet he seemed so much younger than that. But then she shrugged it off, remembering Gandalf saying to her one time that hobbits aged slower than men. Noticing a different face Bilbo looked up to her. "Gandalf, is this the elf your letters have been telling me about?", "Indeed, Bilbo. This is Habren, my, would you believe it? My apprentice."

The elleth bent down to meet Bilbo's face. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo."

The older Baggins had given his full hospitality to his two visitors, rushing around scavenging for wines and cheeses. They chatted for a while, with Bilbo asking about their trip. He occasionally asked Habren a question about herself and the elleth would answer back with as much enthusiasm as the interrogator. But Habren was thankful the conversation did not accidentally lurk into darker memories.

Soon sunset splashed its warm hues into the windows as the light soaked the room. Frodo emerged from the door and carefully closed it. "Hello everyone! The party is almost here!"

"Goodness, how time flies." Sighed Bilbo. "Frodo, be a good lad and lead Habren to the room. You know, the one with the surprise?"

Habren blinked. "Surprise?"

Frodo tapped her arm lightly. "You'll see. This way, please."

Maneuvering through the hobbit hole proved to be a bit tricky for the elf. Bending down and hoping she wouldn't hit a chandelier or wall like Gandalf had done earlier (it was so amusing) but soon they stopped in front of the guest room door. Frodo turned the knob and opened it for her, allowing her to get in first. Unluckily, the ceiling of the room wasn't high enough for Habren to stand upright again, much to her disappointment. Atop the bed sat a brown parcel tied up together in green string. The surprise.

"Go on now," Frodo urged. "Open it."

Habren picked the parcel up and carefully began to reverse-engineer. The item cascaded down as it was released from its confines. The dress was a hybrid of hobbit and elf raiment in a soft pale golden hue with flower accents and embroidery. Sheer sleeves cascaded like bellflowers.

Habren's eyes softened. With all the patrolling and travelling she had done in the wilder regions of Middle-earth, the elleth seemed to have forgotten how strongly a pretty dress could make her feel. She was still, in fact, a woman. She breathed out what was almost a laugh. "Gandalf."

Frodo smiled. "He sent Bilbo a letter months ago asking if he could fulfill a favor. He sent in a pair of elven clothes in the mail as well, hoping it would help create a pattern for a larger-scaled woman. Mrs. Cotton and her daughter Rosie have worked hard on it."

"So _that's _where one of my things went. Here I though I've grown clumsy." Chuckled Habren." I will have to thank them personally. Most especially Gandalf."

Frodo took some time before he said anything again. "I didn't mean to pry, but Bilbo told me from the letter that you've been through a lot the past years. He said Gandalf really wanted you to enjoy yourself tonight. At least have a moment where your thoughts wouldn't be locked inside."

Gandalf told them? Habren thought of earlier dark hours where all she gave the wizard were snarky comments and a foul attitude. While she had changed, her deeds were done. And still, the wizard had been patient, and now he was doing _this _for her. Gratitude. That was what she was feeling. She returned her focus on Frodo. "How much have you been told?"

"Enough for me to understand."

The elleth said nothing, her expression enough to show she was confused. Frodo looked confident as he looked straight at her, but at the same time, Habren could see the sorrow in his eyes. "Though I may have been young, I know what it feels like to lose a parent. Well, in my case I lost them both. I know what it's like when they're not around."

"I'm sorry…" Habren whispered. Eventually the elleth looked as if she were mute, though at length her voice came back up her throat. "How did they…?" Hesitant Frodo turned his head away so that she could only see his profile. "They drowned."

Habren saw a river where two figures struggled desperately for the world above them, the water clawing at them and bringing them down. She remembered, and it had not been the most enjoyable of experiences. She sat down on the bed, still clutching the bundle that was her dress, motioning Frodo to sit next to her. They both sat in a comforting silence as if they have been friends long enough to simply enjoy the other's mere presence.

Habren sighed, giving the hobbit a sincere smile. "It's nice to know there's someone here I can relate to."


	3. His Disappearing Act

Frodo soon emerged from one of the many halls that made up their home, grinning a greeting to his uncle and the wizard. "That certainly took a while." Remarked Bilbo. "Has she seen the dress yet?"

"She has, Uncle. She absolutely adores it. "

Bilbo chuckled. "Perhaps you have outdone yourself, Gandalf."

The wizard smiled. "Habren needs to be reminded every once in a while she is not a mere warrior with nothing to loose."

"Truly nothing to lose?" asked Bilbo. Frodo grew curious and sat down the nearest stool, perked ears intent on listening.

"To be honest if I wouldn't check on her at all her recklessness would become the end of her." Gandalf admitted sadly. "Ever since that fateful day it's as if deep inside the corner of her mind, she has nothing to fight for that would urge her to stay alive. I was hoping this place would change her mind. Peace thrives through every blade of grass and every crack of stone. It would be a good place for her to stay. Forget about the world that shattered her." The wizard's mind dwelled hard on his last statement. A shadow crept into his thoughts.

Before anyone else could speak Gandalf was called for in the distance and Habren came into view. Her jet-black hair cascaded down, released from the low ponytail it was usually in, braids like a dainty onyx wreath that crowned the sides of her head. The dress had fit her perfectly, flowing like a pale golden river.

"Does it suit me?" She asked. "Either way, I am very pleased with it."

"It suits you perfectly, Habren." Said Gandalf. "Lilly and Rosie Cotton have done an excellent job."

"You should see the cake they baked." Said Bilbo. "Truly a sight to see!"

"Yes, yes we will set our eyes upon it in due time Bilbo." Said Gandalf. "The day _is_ nearing the hour. I hope you are ready, Habren. The fireworks are waiting."

Habren was having such a blast! After helping Gandalf out with the fireworks she was went to roam around and enjoy herself. The place was crowded with banging laughter and filled to the brim in song and dance. The food was excellent, the ale just marvelous and the company grand. Habren paid no heed to the hobbits that gave her skeptical looks more than smiles, she had the hobbit children to turn her thoughts to when the same bunch that had approached her earlier that day came storming in as she looked for something to drink. She was touched when they called out to her and handed her a crown made of daisies and snapdragons, giggling and smiling away as she thanked them fervently and happily allowed them to place it upon her head.

When the children left to chase the crackling butterflies that emerged from Gandalf's wizpoppers, Habren found a pint of ale and settled down next to a hobbit with the typical sandy hair, looking apprehensive as he eyed the ring of dancing hobbits from behind them.

"Who are you looking at?" Habren asked out of whim teasingly.

The hobbit gave a start, calming down a bit then suddenly looking quite stiff again. Habren flinched. "I'm sorry, was I too forward with my question?" The hobbit blinked a few times before he quickly replied. "No, no not at all, Ma'am! It just that I've never seen an elf in all my years a Samwise Gamgee! I've always wanted to see an elf."

Habren sighed and somewhat laughed at the same time. "I'm relieved I do not make you feel wary, Samwise Gamgee, unlike some others I've met. I'm Habren, by the way."

As the two shook hands Frodo appeared and placed an arm around the hobbit. "Habren, there you are! I see you've met Sam."

"It seems I have."

Frodo laughs as well before eyeing Sam looking once again at the dancing hobbits. Habren connecting his line of sight with a golden haired lass in blue. This hobbit was quite pretty, no doubt a gentleman would lay eyes on her. "Go on, Sam! Ask Rosie for a dance!" exclaimed Frodo.

Sam looked back and forth –to Rosie, then them. "I think I'll just have myself another ale."

But Frodo quickly pushed him towards the swirling group. "Oh no you don't! Go on!"

Taken in like a goldfish in a whirlpool Sam's hands perfectly clasped onto Rosie's own, taking her with him as the music spun around in the air. The remainder of the previous conversation laughed, Frodo drinking down the ale he snatched from Sam. "Sam and Rosie. That's the Rosie who helped make your dress, by the way. Aren't you going to dance, Habren?"

"Oh, I see!" said Habren then shrugged. "Not so sure. I haven't quite danced in a while."

Frodo smiled. "Oh come on now, it can't be that hard!"

She shrugged again. "Depends."

"Why don't we give it a try? Come on, just one dance?"

Habren surveyed the throng before them. At least the skeptical lot were always near the ale barrels other than the dancing grounds. She sighed. "Just o-" But before she could finish Frodo had already dragged her in. It was queer at first, being the obvious tallest among the lot, but eyeing Gandalf shamelessly prancing about in another crowd gave her some confidence. Her elf-like movements ran fluidly like dancing was her second language. It was a tad bit like swordplay, dodging and turning around as you dueled your opponent. But this dance needed no sword, this dance needed no blood, all it needed to live on were light spirits and light feet.

Eventually, Habren wormed her way out of the crowd along with Frodo, both panting and laughing together. "And you thought you couldn't dance!", "I guess I'm proven myself wrong." Habren replied. "You were pretty amazing as well. I do not know where you get such energy." Frodo laughed.

After a while Frodo and Habren made their way to Bilbo, where both of them saved what ever was left of his gray head when someone ignited the giant red dragon firecracker a little too soon. That was when Habren met Merry and Pippin, the culprits when she came to inspect the singed tent (finding both hobbits being pulled by the ear by Gandalf).

Gandalf looked over to the approaching Habren. "There you are, Habren. Meet Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. Unfortunate enough you would have to meet them in this manner." He said before whisking the pair away, both hobbits staring at the maiden before them in wide-eyed awe. Habren wasn't getting used to all this staring.

The hours passed in a flurry of relentless partying. Habren found Lilly and Rosie Cotton soon enough and sat down on the nearest chair she could find, easily befriending the pair. She was still talking with them when Bilbo stepped on top of a barrel to deliver a speech, earning him a volume of cheers from the guests.

Bilbo bows to the applause. "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots!"

Bilbo continued. "Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday! Yes, and alas, Eleventy- one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable Hobbits!"

More applause and cheers.

"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you as well as you deserve."

Patches of wavering claps scattered all around. The only amused ones were Frodo and Gandalf. Habren was puzzled but nonetheless curious.

"I have… things to do," Bilbo's voice started to falter, pulling something out of his pocket and hiding whatever it was behind him. With her sharp hearing Habren heard loud and clear, "I have put this off for far too long."

"I regret to announce," he continued. "this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell." He turns to Frodo at the last word. His voice now droned into a faint whisper. "Goodbye."

In an instant as if he was never there, the old hobbit disappeared.

The uproars rose and confusion swathed the crowds. Frodo was left shocked as everyone else, Gandalf grew in alarm and Habren's eyes flashed with a hidden shadow, something inside of her snapped.

Bilbo had made it back safely to Bag End and the hobbit wasted no time gathering his belongings and clutching onto his walking stick. The moment he turned a corner someone like a dim light startled him to stone.

"H-Habren? What brings you here, my dear?" he asked nervously. "And how did you get here so quickly?"

"Bilbo." She started with a foreign darkness in her tone, her elven glow evident in the dark. "What have you got in your pocket?"

The hobbit started to sweat like a waterfall, "M-my pocket…?" The familiarity of the situation was all too much for him.

Habren asked again. "What has it gots in its nasty little pocketses?"

Bilbo gave out a yelp and quickly evaded her. As he reached the parlor Gandalf was already waiting. "I suppose you think that was terribly clever?" he said. "Come on, Gandalf! Did you see their faces?" Replied Bilbo, trying to not mind the looming aura Habren was projecting from behind them.

"There are many magic rings in this world, Bilbo Baggins, and none of them should be used lightly."

Bilbo raised his arms. "It was just a bit of fun! Oh, you're probably right, as usual." He admitted as he continued to gather his things. "You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?", "Two eyes –as often as I can spare them. Maybe two more eyes would do the trick." Gandalf replied while glancing knowingly at Habren, who knew about the plan of leaving all along.

"I'm leaving everything to him." Bilbo added.

"What about that ring of yours?" questioned the wizard. "Is that staying too?"

"Yes, yes. It's in an envelope over there on the mantelpiece… No wait it's –here in my pocket. Heh, isn't that –isn't that odd though?" Bilbo comments as he fingers the ring in his hand, a simple golden band with nothing fancy to be of value. "Yet, after all why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?"

"Leave it behind, Bilbo." Said the quiet yet firm voice of Habren. "What makes you cling so desperately to it?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Bilbo. "But then again, now that it comes to it, I don't feel like parting with it! It's mine, I found it, it came to me!"

The elleth's face betrayed no clear emotion. "I simply ask. No need to be angry."

"If I get angry it's _your _fault!" Bilbo yelled. "Stalking me in the night like a wind come and gone!"

Gandalf looked at Habren, she did not make any move to say anything. The hobbit in between them started to stroke the ring with an eerie fondness. "It's mine, my own… _my precious_."

"Habren, get behind me." Ordered Gandalf. "Precious? It's been called that before, but not by you."

"Argh! What business is it of yours what I do with my own things?!"

"I think you've had that ring quite long enough." Urged Gandalf.

"You- you want it for yourself!" accused Bilbo.

"Bilbo Baggins!" cried the wizard, standing straighter with more presence than he had ever displayed in a long time. Shadows crawled from every corner, the lights grew dark and the air grew chill. A faint rumble of power shook Bag End. "Do not take me for some cheap conjurer of tricks! I am not trying to rob you." Then everything crept back in reverse, shadows fled, light returned, the air grew warmer and nothing shook anymore. Gandalf bent down with a comforting smile. "I'm trying to help you."

Bilbo started to weep and embraced his dear friend. The old hobbit looked terrified –probably of Gandalf's showcase of power or the realization of the rings attachment to him. "All your long years we've been friends." Said Gandalf. "Trust me as you once did, hmm? Let it go.

"You're right Gandalf," Agreed Bilbo. "The ring must go to Frodo." When he looked at Habren the elf bent down as well. "Forgive me, Habren. That was rather uncouth of me." He apologized. "I was not myself."

"…It's alright." She replied with a small smile. Bilbo smiles as well. "It's late, the road is long."

The hobbit swings his travel packs upon his back, more than ready to go through the circular green door one last time. "Yes, it is time."

But before he could step out, "Bilbo…" Gandalf calls with a raised tone.

"Hmm?"

"The ring is still in your pocket." Said Habren.

"Oh, yes." Bilbo says sheepishly. Taking out the ring he stared at it for a good long time, as if to somehow mentally break the bond it ever had on him. Slowly his palm started to turn like it took a lot of willpower, eventually letting the ring fall with a _clang! _

Bilbo quickly steps out into the night, looking quite relieved and free. "I've thought up an ending for my book." He suddenly said as he turned to them. "And he lived happily ever after, to the end of his days."

"And I'm sure you will my friend." Encourages Gandalf.

Bilbo lightly smiles. "Goodbye, Gandalf."

"Goodbye, dear Bilbo." Said Gandalf with somewhat of a knowing wink.

Their hands clasped and Bilbo does the same gesture with Habren. "Take good care of Frodo for me, Habren."

"I promise, Bilbo. Safe journey. Elbereth guide you."

The hobbit turned around and went through the gate, singing a merry tune as he embarked on his next, and most probably, last adventure.

Gandalf and Habren went inside, both inspecting the ring with bladed scrutiny. Gandalf made an attempt to pick it up, but the moment his skin made contact a fiery image of a cat-like eye burned his mind and he quickly pulled away. He looked worriedly at Habren, who wore the same expression as he, she too had seen.

Habren excused herself outside and sat amongst the garden flowers, fingering the halo of flowers that still rested upon her head. She heard Frodo go inside, no doubt after taming the commotion his uncle had ignited. Half an hour later Gandalf found her seated beside the hydrangeas and said. "I have told Frodo to keep it safe. I will need you to stay here and guard the both of them until I return."

"Understood."

"But make no mention of what it could be. I do not want to make such dark assumptions until the answer is clear. You will be alright? Try not to be too reckless, please?"

"Alright."

Gandalf took a moment of silence, expression warm, bringing the elleth into a fatherly embrace. "I hope we are wrong." Murmured Habren.

"I hope as strongly as you do Habren –I do."

The wizard finally departed, leaving Habren alone again in the night. Her raiment mingled with her elven glow made her look like a lost candlelight, lonesome and confused. She clasped her hands together until they turned quite white, standing there and saying nothing at all.


	4. A Dance With Daylight

**_Chapter 3_**

_Darkness encased her like a shell, wading in water that was just too thick, each step a burden. The water started to divert from its clear and crystal stasis, clouding with murk and muck and turning the ford black. The color started to change again, panic swarmed amok in her veins as it converted into an eerie shade of red that looked too close to blood. In her fatigue she stumbled into the liquid, the shallow ford turning into a deep river of scarlet as she sank. Her mind fought to struggle, but the signals would not reach her body. She started to cry in defeat, her tears cleansing the river little by little. As it started to clear out, Habren in her immobilized state saw a gold ring, fluttering for a riverbed that could not be seen. Words rang in her mind:_

**_"All that is gold does not glitter,_**

**_Not all those who wonder are lost,"_**

_The voice started to fade and distort, coming off like broken verse. She saw a bird of ash and flame, spreading its wings and expanding into a burst of bright light, **"Fire –be woken," **She saw a girdle of light spread across the white city of Minas Tirith, **"Light –spring." **_

_Then the wordings grew tamed again, resonating loud and clear. She saw rising from the dark abyss fragments of a gleaming sword –raining like pale like shards of starlight._

**_"Renewed shall be blade that was broken."_**

_The last thing she saw was a quick flicker of a face, a face she remembered but recalled to be younger. The light in his eyes never fading._

**_"The crownless again shall be king!"_**

Habren "woke" with a start.

Seventeen years since she started residing in Bag End and she had never encountered such a dream. It kept her still on the bed she was given but rarely used. Elves do not need sleep, rather they acquire the rest they need through the mind. Habren was doing just that when the dream came to her. It took a good few minutes before she made any move to get out. Pulling out one of the comfortable hobbit style dresses amongst the myriad that the Cotton's have given her and securing her boots upon her feet Habren went out to the kitchen.

Ever since she started staying in Bag End both Frodo and she would take turns in making meals. Today was Frodo's turn, and the hobbit prepared for them some freshly baked loaves, jams and clotted cream.

"Morning, Fro."

"Good morning, Ren." Frodo said pleasantly.

In all honesty, the two won't try to deny there have been rumors circulating when they first started living together. Some were quite amusing, yet some were just downright disrespectful. Nothing romantic was really forming between them, much to the dismay of the most gossipy of hobbits. Frodo and Habren shared a completely different bond, rivaling that of a tightly-knitted brother and sister.

"You're up and about earlier than usual." Mentioned Frodo between intakes of bread.

Habren meekly smiled, taking a gulp of milk. "Yeah, I guess so." Frodo knew better –something was bothering her, but since she made no present move to tell him he decided to let it slide for now. "Going out with the children, as usual?"

"Haha, as usual. To be honest I didn't think a few visits with the little ones would lead to a part-time hobbit-sitting job. As much as I wouldn't want the parents to pay me I can't let all the financial responsibility go to you."

Frodo smiled. "Well, you wouldn't listen to me when I would ask of it otherwise! But I appreciate it."

The elleth smiled an answer as she took another sip.

Habren came back by sunset, exhausted after playing an all day long tag fest with the children. It would take a few more days until their parents would return from their long trip visiting a few friends on the opposite farthing. By the time she entered Frodo was waiting for her and they finished supper quickly.

"Ren, you ready to go to the Green Dragon? The others are probably waiting."

"Waiting for us so they can get drinking." Smirked Habren. "Let's go."

This was a rather normal day for Habren. It took her a while to get used to staying in one place for such a long time, often telling herself that she needn't pack her bags and ready to be whisked away by the never-ending winds. She had gotten used to the scale of Bag End within a span of one year, but more than willing to spend most of her hours outside in the open where she didn't need to be so merciless to her back. She enjoyed every day she spent here, relishing in every peaceful moment. But she never forgot about Gandalf, nor the ring that hid in one of the forgotten corners of their home. When Frodo was fast asleep the elleth would go out every day in the dead of night, waiting for her mentor to return. The waiting turned into a year, a year turned into three, three turned to ten and by the time the eleventh year came she stopped waiting for him altogether. She knew he would come, but she didn't know when.

By the time they came into the Green Dragon Sam, Merry and Pippin were, as predicted, there waiting for them. Frodo made way over to his friends while Habren went over to Rosie, who was working at the bar. "Good evening, Rosie!", "Good evening, Habren!" the hobbit lass replied. "Busy hour tonight. A lot of the older folk have come to exchange more stories than usual. A lot of queer things have been going on lately."

"Really?"

"You can listen in a bit if you like. I doubt it would take a lot of effort on your part." Chuckled Rosie.

The news was less than pleasing to her. Then they spoke of Sarn Ford. The ranger camp had been attacked by mysterious dark figures on horseback, described as "inhumane" and "out of a nightmare". Something ill was transpiring, and Habren did not like the imprint it left on her mind. She would ask him if she could visit for a while, but the coming of these shadowy beings all the more made her plant herself closer to Frodo.

It was way past midnight when the hobbits started to disperse. Merry and Pippin went on their way, voices lost from all the singing they have done, Sam muttering a bit when some hobbit tried flirting with Rosie as he walked with them a while, stopping when they neared his home. Habren chuckled when the gardener was no longer within sight. "He gets so worked up around Rosie. Should I tell him that she likes him too?"

"No one seems to be stopping you."

Before they even touched the door, the elleth felt an odd pacing in the wind. A chill went down her spine, the feeling nowhere near comforting. She stared off into the horizon, looking for dark figures and other unsightly things. Frodo's brows furrowed. "Ren?",

"It's nothing Fro… just the wind." She said, mustering a small grin. Habren was horrible in lying… but she was a master of keeping secrets. Frodo nodded unsurely and entered the hole, leaving the elleth pining for something to place her worry on. The feeling darted its way swiftly towards the inside when she heard Frodo yelp.

Glad that among all the things she would leave behind she's never leave home unarmed, Habren rushed inside, dagger positioned for a kill. She saw a tall figure hover over the hobbit and she sharply turned him around and thrust the weapon near the intruder's throat. She quickly scanned him, finding relief and annoyance on who it was. "What took you so long?" she grumbled.

"There is no time for sarcasm, Habren." Chastised Gandalf. The wandering wizard looked weary, his grey robes more weathered than ever. "Frodo, the ring! Quickly!" Frodo scrambles with no hesitation and salvages the envelope from a nearby chest Habren never paid attention to. Gandalf snatches it and in one fluid motion and tosses it into the furnace fire.

"What are you doing!?" Frodo cried.

The flames engulfed the paper and reduced it into nothing. The ring was revealed, after long years of deprivation from the light outside. Gandalf grabbed hold of a pair of thongs, clasping unto and hovering the ring before the hobbit. "Hold out your hand, Frodo. It's quite cool."

Frodo did as he was told, allowing Gandalf to plop the golden band unto his palm. "What can you see? Can you see anything?" asked the wizard as he turned away from him. Frodo started to carefully inspect it, after a while noting, "Nothing. There's nothing." Gandalf sighed in relief, Habren's heart feeling unsure. Her feelings were sorted when Frodo spoke again. "Wait. There are markings."

Gandalf turned around and Habren walked quickly towards the hobbit's side. The ring started to be etched in a fiery light, the wordings reflecting upon their faces. "It's some sort of Elvish," continued Frodo. "I can't read it."

"There are few who can." Confirmed Gandalf. "The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

Frodo raised his brows. "Mordor?"

Habren cringed.

Gandalf's voice fell grave. "In the common tongue it says, 'One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them'."

The buried painful memories were sprouting again like weeds. Habren's speech shifted to her native tongue, Sindarin, a language she had not used in a long time, but by heart has remembered. _"Sen-ad! This again!"_

Surprised by her sudden outburst Frodo cried out to her as she left. "Ren, where are you going?!"

_"In sant!"_

Frodo looked at Gandalf, puzzled by the language barrier, even with the few lessons on Sindarin from both she and Bilbo and worried for the elf's welfare.

Gandalf sighed as the elleth vanished from the hobbit hole. "She'll just be in the garden."

Habren strode her way to the garden Sam had so lovingly tended to. She made her way back to her favorite spot near the hydrangeas and the snapdragons glancing at her when the wind would blow. She didn't need anyone to explain –already had pieced it all together the moment Gandalf started translating the script. The One Ring, the ring that gave Sauron his full power, the ring that caused all the misery and pain to many those ages ago, the Ring that sat on the palm of Frodo's hand.

Gandalf came to her half an hour later, plopping himself on the ground beside her. Habren did not turn to meet his face. "What took you so long?" she asked, tone more hurt than hostile. The wizard seemed lost for words. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

"Yes, Gandalf." She snapped. "Seventeen years is a particularly long time for waiting. Others may think seventeen years is nothing for an elf, but almost every day seems slower when waiting for such valuable information. I've been waiting _seventeen _years, Gandalf! Hoping that we were wrong! Then you finally come back and you prove that –that _thing_ is what I think it is!"

Habren sighed. "It's selfish to say, but I want to see it to go away…"

"It's not selfish," Gandalf said softly. "It would be what everyone would want, not only you. Time is of the essence now, now that we know how heavy the situation is we must act as soon as we are able. I would only ask this of you when the need is great –Habren, I make for Isengard before daybreak to consult with Saruman. If anyone would know what to do it would be him. You cannot come with me, as much as you would want to see your mother's old teacher. I need you to bring Frodo as far as Bree and wait for me at the Prancing Pony. Can I ask you to do that for me?"

Finally the elf turns to the wizard, a soft look on her face. She nods.

Gandalf softly smiles. "Thank you, Habren." He simply said, knowing he need not say anything anymore. He hugs her shoulders briefly before getting up and asking her to prepare her things. The elleth follows, asking herself to find the strong will she once had to take on the new day.

Habren made haste to her room, memorizing were she hid all her weapons and other travel equipment. She shed off her blue dress, bringing out of closet hibernation the usual earth-tone garb she would always wear, the familiar feel of leather and cotton a comforting thing for her. It felt like she was back in her own skin again, and that alone boosted her morale a bit. Tying her hair she got the remainder of what they would need for the journey. Once prepared she met up with Frodo and Gandalf, bending down to meet the hobbit's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Frodo smiled at her encouragingly, "I'm alright."

"Get down!"

The two quickly obeyed at the sound of warning. The wizard inched forward an open window, where they heard a faint rustle from the outside. Gandalf readied his staff while Habren inched a bit backward, bow ready, an arrow notched and ready to fire. After a thick and suspenseful silence Gandalf poked his staff into a bush, a grunt emitted at the contact. Indignantly, Gandalf salvaged a startled hobbit and flung him down onto the nearest tabletop. "Confound it all! Samwise Gamgee, have you been eavesdropping?!"

Sam starts to breath loudly. "I haven't been dropping no eaves sir, honest! I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you follow me."

"Pretty dark out to be trimming the edges, Sam." Reminded Habren, who had lowered her bow.

Sam started to talk. "I heard raised voices—"

"What did you hear?" demanded Gandalf. "Speak!"

"N-n-nothing important! That is I heard a good deal about a ring and a dark lord and something about the end of the world but –Please, Mister Gandalf sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anythin'," Sam gulped. "unnatural."

zzzz

"No?" voiced Gandalf, looking at Frodo with a glint in his eye. "Perhaps not. I have thought of a better use for you."

It had been a few days already since Frodo, Sam and Habren set out of Hobbiton. Habren had to wake a tired Rosie to ask if she or anyone else willing would look after the children supposedly in her care, attempting to lie that she needed to visit a sick friend somewhere in the East. Rosie obviously saw that her friend was lying, making her even more worried. Habren, defeated, told her it was nothing she needed to worry about, but it was still important to her. With unclear answers but good-termed goodbyes Habren left with the others, promising their return.

She one day decided to scout ahead, reluctantly shattering the idea of visiting Sarn Ford. She wanted so desperately to check on the Rangers and Halbarad, but her duty to Frodo must come first. Confirming to herself that there were no current threats she backtracked to the two hobbits. "Fro, Sam, how are you do-" She stopped in her tracks and stifled back a laugh when she saw the haphazard state of her two companions. The hobbit population within the near vicinity was multiplied by two as they all laid sprawled all over the crop field they were in.

The newcomers both got up quickly. "Frodo? Merry! It's Frodo Baggins!" cried one. "Hello, Frodo!" greeted the other casually. Sam got up quickly to help his master back on his feet. Habren smiled as she watched on. "Hello Merry, Pippin." The Brandybuck and Took turned her way with wide eyes. "Habren's here too!" exclaimed Pippin.

Merry smirked. "So how is the Mrs. Baggins?"

Habren rolled her eyes. "Haha. Very amusing." She said, having been used to Merry's teasing already.

Merry laughs at her reaction, handing out something to Sam afterward. "Here, hold this."

Sam's eyes go round accusingly as he surveys the fresh crop he now cradled in his arms. "You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!"

As if on cue, the farmer's hollers were heard echoing indignantly through the cornfields, Habren catching eye of a bobbing pitchfork from afar. No one was told twice to run. The group dashed towards the same direction, shouting to each other words Habren paid no particular heed to. Her feet came to a complete halt when they nearly met thin air, stopping just before a mildly steeped ledge and sighed with relief. The hobbits caught up to her, only to collide to each other like dominoes and tumbling down the ledge in a messy heap. Habren fought back to stifle down her laughter, sliding down to help them. Pippin's face was amusingly _very _close to a pile of droppings of some fairly big animal and Merry mistakenly thought to have broken a bone –only to realize it was just some carrot. Sam started to dust of the dirt off his trousers, complaining about the two aforementioned. Frodo had collected himself and started to gaze off into the road, the elf joining beside him as they both felt a chilly and odd vibe from the tree canopied path. The other hobbits were busy wrestling for some mushrooms Pippin had spotted, unaware of the increasing tension.

"I think we should get off the road." Frodo said nervously.

Then an eerie distant cry rang through the trees and pierced the road. Gold and copper leaves swirling before them like the foreshadowing of a summoning. Habren's blood ran cold. The cry was inhuman and chilling to the bone. The cry was too familiar.

Frodo recovered first. "Get off the road! Quick!" and seeing Habren unmoving, he grabbed her hand to navigate for her. He thanked instinct that he had reacted quickly, lest the incoming presence find them so utterly exposed. But seeing the elf cave in so suddenly, which was very much unlike her frightened him so. He uttered her name in hushed tones as they hid under a tree's big root, pleading for her to get her senses back.

Habren felt herself sunk further in when she heard the familiar clank of armor, the familiar feel in the air as it got off its steed and crouched right above them blindingly. She didn't need to see for herself the dark foreboding presence of a Nazgul, a Ringwraith. A shapeless figure –a remnant of what was a great king of another age, committed to the wrong alliances and heart rusted with the lust of power. The only way it could be –just _be _in the world was the black hooded robe they would wear and the dark and ragged armor that gave them form. The steeds they would ride were manifestations of their darkness–spawned by an evil that cannot be described. She knew their image all too well, and she loathed them as strongly as her familiarity, after what they have done to Gilras, to her mother, to herself.

She would _not _let the same fate fall upon her companions. She silently prayed that Eru hear her as she felt the force of the world around her, the landscape swathed in the power of its own life. A dark energy from beside her drowned her even further, the ill aura of the One Ring hovering too close for comfort. The trees swiftly parted and the sun shone fiercer than before, pouring over the Rider like a scorching pillar of pale flame. The Nazgul screeched –its cries sharp like metal on metal, distracting it enough to hear Merry toss the bag of mushrooms he was carrying the other way, the Rider too eager to get away from the light rode away in a flash. Habren's conscience swam faster to the surface, breaking into the waking world not without dealing a heavy toll on her mentally.

"What was that?!" demanded Merry.

No one answers him. Everyone else is trying to process it while Habren pieces the events together. The dark figures, the Nazgul, attacked Sarn Ford and they were definitely after the Ring, Frodo had tried to put on the Ring but was stopped –but the fact that the influence of the Ring was strong with Sauron's agents around opened her eyes more, and finally –she had just exposed her greatest secret.

"Ren," She heard Frodo call her. Looking at the hobbit the Baggins wore a serious and worried look. "Was it just me, or did you do something… unnatural?"

Habren grew on edge, in turn replying sheepishly, "What do you mean?"

"Frodo's right." Muttered Pippin. "You started to mutter some strange things and we saw the trees move and the sun grow hotter!"

"Did you do that, Habren?" asked Merry, disbelieving.

"I know a decent bit about elves, Miss Habren." Said Sam. "And I'm pretty sure no normal elf can pull of something like that."

Frodo's eyes never left her. "What are you hiding, Ren?"

Habren cursed mentally. She had not been aware of the muttering as well. Her eyes shifted from hobbit to hobbit, ending back with the one with the bluest eyes. "We need to move before night falls. We wont have a very clear path by then." She said, walking away from them. But the elleth turned to them slightly when she had a good few meters from her companions before walking away again. "I'm not just an elf."

Frodo and the others start to follow her. "Then what else are you?"

"Half-Maia."


	5. The Great Tom Bombadil

The group dashed into a tireless run, breaking pace only to scout the area. Habren would not let them stop until they were at a safe distance from the Nazgul, Merry telling her of a faster way to get across the Brandywine River through Buckleberry Ferry. As secretive as they could be, they weaved through bush and tree.

They made a quick stop as they surveyed the area yet again. Habren had not spoken ever since the earlier events, thinking it necessary for them to know while they were still on the run. The elf only spoke to give directions. Sensing nothing she said, "Nothing. Keep moving."

But the hobbits did not obey.

"That Black Rider was looking for something, or someone." Merry said. "Frodo?"

"Get down!" cried Pippin.

They all crouched down and the figure of a mounted Rider rode darker than the night. All held their breath in their lungs. The Rider stood there for a moment before leaving their line of sight, unaware of their presence.

"There are more of them." Habren said briefly. "We need to leave the Shire and get to Bree."

Later Frodo tried to get her attention as they kept moving, her earlier statement still fresh in his mind. "Ren—"

But the elleth would not heed and she urged them on. "Come along now, Frodo. I think anything else can wa—"

As they stepped onto the dirt road the Nazgul from before stood there in waiting. Habren shot it a daggering glare. "Keep running. NOW!"

They made for another sprint, leaping over a fence as the view of the river spread out before them like a banner of nightly reflections. The adrenaline rushed swiftly like rapids as one by one they leaped onto a nearby raft. Habren untied the mooring rope with ease and notched an arrow with her bow. With a fluid motion she fired an arrow to the nearing Rider. The Nazgul recoiled as it was pierced in the shoulder and it groggily retreated from them, two more similar beings riding right behind it.

Habren scowled as they all started to relax, muttering something in her mother tongue that none of her companions could comprehend. Pippin kneeled in front of her seated form, looking up at her with big eyes. "What are they?" Habren snapped her head towards him as if she was freed from a trance. "That's a topic I wish not to indulge in. I'm sorry Pippin, not that now.", "Since 'not that now'" started Sam. "Can we move over to this Maia business?" The elf sighed, knowing there was no more hiding from them anymore. "I'll try to be straightforward, I am what others call a half-blood. A trace of elf within me, but also the trace of Maia. A Maia is –someone who is –never mind. We all know Gandalf correct?"

All of them nod.

"Are you aware that he is not the only one of his kind?"

They all nod again, hesitantly this time. Then all of a sudden Frodo's eyes grow wide in realization. Habren sees this and smiles softly. "Correct, Frodo. Well, somewhat correct."

Pippin frowned. "But he didn't say anything."

"Let me try this again…" sighed Habren, hoping they would have gotten it too. "The Maiar are spirits that descended into the world to help the Valar in shaping it. We are by no means stronger than the Powers, but we possess abilities akin to them, yet to a lesser degree. My Mother was a Maia who accompanied the Wizards on their voyage to Middle-earth. My father was an elf who wandered the land with his father and other elves."

"Woah… so your mother was a wizard?" asked Merry.

"No she wasn't. My mother was just a Maia who wanted to see Middle-earth with her own eyes and was permitted to go. The Wizards are those who have pledge to protect this land from... harm. They are bound by certain restrictions and rules. My mother was not, and so am I."

"But I have never seen you wield them." Said Frodo.

"Because it would only raise speculations, and we had enough of that back at home. I've tried using it a few times when you were asleep." Said Habren. "Although the feeling never felt the same way..."

Frodo's face fell. It was a year later after she started staying in Bag End that she told him the full story. He turned towards the other hobbits, bearing a silent look to not ask any further.

Eventually, Habren got up and turned to them. "How far is the nearest crossing?"

Merry answered. "Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles."

Habren nodded. "Let's speed this up. I know where we can rest for a few nights or so."

She lifted a hand before the part of the river that was behind them and slowly but surely the current flowed into an unnatural direction horizontally, disrupting the quiet pattern and speeding the raft towards the other side. The hobbits gaped and awed at the sudden display, Pippin edging a bit too close to the water to observe it. They all docked on land a minute later, following the lead of the half-elf, half-Maia girl with steady haste.

Habren led them into a forest with barely enough light to walk around unhindered. The hobbits' feet found the occasional branch or protruding pebble that so eagerly wanted them to fall flat on their faces. Habren did not have an easy time as well, although the chances of her dramatically tripping seemed out of question.

She eventually stopped in her tracks. "Wait."

"I don't like how dark it is. I can't see a thing!" fiercely whispered Pippin.

The elleth paid no mind, focusing on the sounds that the darkness could not mute. When certainty fell over her she murmured to her companions, "I find it best that you all cover your ears."

Trusting her completely the hobbits did what they were told, although skeptical and confused. Knowing that their pointed ears had been shut she shyly started to sing in a soft tone,

_Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!_

_ By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,_

_ By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!_

_ Come, Tom Bombadil for our need is near us! _

Not too long after from an uncomfortable gap of silence she heard a jolly voice reply.

_Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,_

_Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow._

_None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:_

_His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster._

_O! Old Tom has heard his name,_

_Walking to find his way back home._

_My sweet Goldberry will have to wait,_

_As the sun is gone and the hour is late!_

There was a rustle from a nearby corner and piercing the monotonous dark came a faint lantern light. The things the warm light touched etched themselves in faint detail, including a warm-looking face with gleeful blue eyes much wiser than many others. The newcomer laughed merrily, drawing thin and colored in with white teeth. "If it isn't Habren! Still so shy with her singing!"

Habren felt color flush across her cheeks. "I don't like others listening."

Tom laughed again, eyebrows rising like bushy canopies. "The night grows ever older. Come now, my friends! Find rest in the home of Old Tom."

"I humbly thank you." Said Habren as she gave the man a respectful bow. "Would you want me to carry that?"

Tom glanced down at the large tray-like leaf he was using to carry white lilies in, the mirth unwavering as it crinkled his eyes. "My, the polite elf you are! Careful now, we must get them to Goldberry in its entirety!"

Tom gave her the leaf and started to lead them into the dark, his lantern expelling the shadows it touched. Habren turned to the hobbits. "Let's go then."

Sam, being as wary as ever asked. "But who is he and this Goldberry he speaks of? How do we know if we can trust them?"

"I believe we can trust them –they have helped me in the past. And if we can get as much rest before the riders catch up, it's all fine to me. Would you rather spend the night in this confounded darkness?"

The hobbits looked at each other with the little light they were supplied. No one wanted to argue.

In silence (aside from the constant song Tom Bombadil would break into) they made their way through an unfamiliar path. Habren knew they were practically blind without the guidance of Tom, and fervently thanked Eru that an ally was there to help them.

From a distance Habren started to hear a far-off singing as they wandered farther into the night. The voice flitted loftily like a soft sunbeam as it crisscrossed through branches and leaves –whisking past their ears, like a golden light at the end of a dark tunnel. As they got closer and closer the outlines of a simple cottage started to materialize. Soon the company had reached the front porch of the stone-bricked home, a strange yet warm glow emanating from the open windows. The voice was loud and clear now, trickling like a sparkling river. Tom blew out his lantern and opened the oaken door, revealing a wide living room bathed in a warm light where an elleth sat down on a chair surrounded by a great number of wide earthenware filled to the brim in water—white lilies lazily afloat in each. It gave off the image that she was enthroned amongst a lake full of flora. The elf lady had long hair that rippled past her back like a yellow-golden river, a pretty green dress she wore with a belt weaved with flowers that looked newly plucked from the garden. There was a freshness to her face, though her blue eyes held essence of an everlasting youth that blossomed with an ancient knowing.

The elf lady stopped singing and turned towards them. "Welcome good guests! Shut out the night along with the weariness you bear and rejoice! For you are in the house of Tom. I am Goldberry, daughter of the river."

Their guests bowed in greeting. Habren presented her with a smile. "I thank the both of you for allowing as to stay here for a few nights."

Goldberry softly laughed –her voice like a clear bell. "Dear Habren, you and your friends may stay here as long as you would like! But come now, scrub your worries away for the night with a good bath! My husband shall lead you gentlefolk to your quarters.

"Hey ho!" cried Tom. "This way, my good hobbits!" The hobbits, all too eager for a well-deserved, relaxing bath after taking on a wild goose chase, took the offer immediately. Habren was left with the Lady Goldberry, who in turn led her to her own quarters.

"You have been expecting us, to have all these arrangements seamlessly planned." Habren remarked as they both turned a corner. "Yes we have," chuckled Goldberry, turning corners again. "Do you remember what my husband told you? All those years ago?"

"It was just as I was making my way to Sarn Ford when I stepped into the barrow-downs." Habren recalled, a slight shiver running up her spine. "Tom had gotten me out of that place before some ominous spirit could smite me. You also allowed me to stay for a few days and he taught me to sing that song… Did it have to be a song?"

"Your voice has a nice chime to it, Habren. You mustn't be so ashamed!"

Habren felt her face flush again.

Pretty soon, Habren was led to her own room. Pretty much the same one she had stayed in before. It had a low ceiling and was carpeted in green like the couple had brought in a square of a prairie inside. The beddings white while the curtains yellow–warding out any peek of the night. Giving one final thank you to Goldberry before she left her alone, Habren opened another door that led to the bathroom. She was enjoying the fact that she could receive a nice, warm bath after so long.

After a revitalizing bath, Habren searched her back for spare clothes. In all the hustle that happened as she packed for this journey she wasn't able to pack efficiently. All she had for a spare was a cream tunic she had not worn since her days with the family she left behind –the family she believed she shattered.

Against her will, Habren started to remember them. Her mother, her father, her friends –most especially Gilras. The ellon had been her closest friend, having gone through a lot together until his death. She struggled to remember his face, the boyish grin that was always plastered on his face, the way his ears would perk when he heard something the others could not, the deep green eyes like leaves dappled in sunlight. She realized how she still missed him, how the memory of him bore so deep into her heart. It only wounded her more inside.

The tunic hung from her fingertips as she held it before herself. It was queer how one simple article of clothing could bring back a diverse collection of memories. Letting out a deep sigh, urging herself to expel those thoughts before they could hurt her more she pulled it over her head. She continued to ready herself before joining the others downstairs.


	6. The Passing of The Elves

**I'm sorry everyone for the late post! And yes, this is my first author's note. I hope you will forgive me and please enjoy! **

Dinner was starting. The table was laden with a bounty of fresh bread, honey and yellow cream, which their guests indulged in without any second guessing. Conversation was light-hearted and lively, a good pick me up for the traveling company. The laughter carried on until Habren accompanied the full and tired Halflings into their room. Immediately, the hobbits collapsed unto their respective beds one-by-one, muttering a few good nights before drifting off into sleep. Habren chuckled at how easily slumber took over and proceeded to properly prepare them for bed, fluffing Sam and Pippin's pillows and laying the blankets on Merry and Frodo. As she turned to leave when a faint glimmer caught the corner of her eye. "He dropped something..."

Unsuspectingly, the ring seemed to sneer at her as it lay on the green carpets; gold upon emerald in the dark. She grimaced and struggled whether to pick it up or not. She didn't want to get associated when the ring seemed to only cause pain, yet there was a foreboding curiosity that shrouded her. She slowly bent down, a hand ready to salvage with questions scraping at her back, why people spilt blood for it? Why people were so…compelled to it.

_One time… _A shadow of a thought said to her. _What makes you so worth… killing over._

Her ring finger, warmed by the freshly baked bread and the comfort of the candlelight felt a cold sting at the tip as the eerily cool feeling passed through her digit. Her trance shattered only to fall into yet another one. Every thing moved like a painting, light and shadow defined through broad strokes. She found herself being towered over a lidless eye, wreathed in a terrible flame bright and blinding. Her eyes started to feel like they were on fire, but she couldn't tear them away. She felt like she was drowning all over again, but there was no water this time. She felt like she was drowning in the scorching heat and the waves of fire that flared like a merciless sun. The small black slit that made it so feline bore on her like a dagger, slowly digging deeper into her—slowly and painfully. Habren grew stiff as stone. With a haunting and graveling voice it spoke to her, calling her name, calling her into the darkness.

Then everything vanished like it never was. The heat evaporated and the chill of the night plunged into her like iced water. She was back in the room where the hobbits were sleeping. Habren collapsed in a heap, having never felt so weakened in such a long time. The aftermath of her attempt to wield the ring was taking its toll on her. She couldn't erase the memory of it just yet. She had seen it. She had seen the Eye.

Then it dawned on her: how did she snap out?

She sharply turned around to find Tom looking at her with concern. "Some things are not meant to be tampered with, hm?" he said with a comforting smile. But it did not comfort her, when she clearly saw that he held the Ring. Tom saw her apprehension as he slid it through a finger. Habren's eyes grew large –He did not disappear.

"I sensed not all was warm in Old Tom's home. " Tom said. "I didn't see you at first, but I found you. Maybe this will keep you from trying to slip your finger through again." He proceeded to quietly and carefully slip the Ring back into Frodo's waistcoat that hung from one of the bedposts. Habren felt no malice in his word and actions, finding herself loosing grip on the image of the Dark Lord as he spoke. "Tom, just… _who _are you?"

Tom's blue pupils sparkled as his eyes crinkled. Thin lips drawing into a slight smile. "I am."

Tom Bombadil bade goodnight and left the room, Habren exited next to go to her own. She felt herself coming back, the warmness within her returning. She may never know who or what exactly Tom Bombadil was, and she was not quite sure she would get the privilege to know.

She lay in bed as she thought of the recent happenings. How she had easily succumbed to the influence of the Ring. Now, more than ever she abhorred it with a fierce resolve. And more than ever she wanted to stay away from it as much as possible. She may never forgive herself for being so weak-willed, allowing the Ring to nearly take full possession of her. Hadn't Tom arrived to stop her who knows what might've happened?

Then suddenly a brief thought suddenly came to her. She recalled Gandalf had said that with greater power comes greater influence, should one give evil the chance. Her mentor avoided the Ring upon its discovery as much as possible. She never really placed much confidence in her power ever since that day in Mordor. Her abilities could not save at least one of the lives of her loved ones. But she couldn't keep the thought from swimming around her head, was she truly powerful? Or was the true fact that she was weak both in skill and heart?

Habren hated thinking that way. So she shut the thoughts out and laid there in the night.

The company stayed for one more day in Tom Bombadil's home, influenced by the persistent invitation of Goldberry. Habren could not understand why the river-daughter hindered their journey –not that she thought she was doing it for their disadvantage. They easily found peace, taking great value to the respite offered to them. Habren felt tired –a good kind of tired. She had done a good session of sword practice and teaching the hobbits a few tricks in the art. She also helped out prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner with Goldberry and took a walk and gathered more lilies with Tom (why these lilies seemed so significant to his wife, she did not know). She left herself to lie on her bed after a great dinner and a nice bath, her mind fixated on no particular topic. Her thoughts were in a good kind of empty, the emptiness that came with peace of mind. But something stirred in the air like a thin ribbon of light, flowing like waves of the sea. It was singing, a singing all too familiar.

_Fanuilos heryn aglar_

_Rin athar annun-aearath,_

_Calad amen I reniar_

_Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath_

Habren jumped out of bed and dashed out of the room, barely avoiding a passing Goldberry. There was a powerful rush of energy that surged through her, a long forgotten needing resurfacing. The rooms of golden light a great contrast to the dark blue of midnight, the warmth of the house so different from the sudden chill that prickled her skin the moment she plunged outside. She weaved her way from tree to tree, her heart pacing louder as their voices drew nearer. The elleth stopped, grappling a hand on a tree trunk as a flood of parading elves draped in ethereal cloth and light passed in monotonous procession.

She quickly scanned for a familiar face, heart feeling saddened when there was none to be found. Her heart leaped up again when she finally did, an ellon crowned in golden hair shrouded by the hood of his cloak, a lantern held aloft as he guided his people.

Habren cried out to him, "Lord Gildor!" Gildor halted and seemed lost in battle with his thoughts before he turned around, eyes astonished the moment he saw the elleth. "Could it be? The daughter of Haldin…?" he questioned to himself. All doubt that shrouded him faded immediately the minute he saw the jet-black hair, the brown eyes and the facial structure of his old friend in the version of an elleth he –as well as many others thought lost or worst—dead.

Relief flooded into Gildor as he wrapped a friendly hug around her. "Habren, my eyes have not been fooled!"

"Milord, where is my kin? Where is my father?"

Gildor frowned "Forgive me, Habren, but after they believed you, Gilras and your mother to be slain they fled Middle-earth two years later. Though they were looking for you, in hope you have not suffered the same fate. You did not reunite with them in time."

Habren was crestfallen. "How could they abandon Middle-earth so readily?"

Gildor narrowed his eyes. "Two of their kin have been mercilessly murdered within the Black Land and one was said to have drowned and drifted off into the unpredictable tide. Your numbers were small but your bonds ever great. The events have crushed them deeply."

Habren flinched, yet said nothing else in reply.

Gildor sighed, his facial features relaxing slightly. "But your father remained, his hope greater compared to the others'. Although his whereabouts I know naught of."

"Father, he still is here… But where…?" she asked herself. She continued to watch the other elves pass by them, faces torn and wrought in lament, journey ever westward—to the harbor of the Grey Havens. Sadness found Habren again. "Milord, are you all… leaving as well?"

"Yes, Habren. Valinor calls to us eagerly now that a darkness is doomed to flood the land. It is not safe, even for my people."

"Most places do not seem safe anymore." She muttered.

Gildor turned to her with a small smile. "There was another of your kin who also stayed behind. She leaves with us now, but now that you are here,"

The ellon turned towards the river of elves. "Idrilin!"

Emerging from a cluster of elleths came a maiden with silver-blonde hair and green eyes –the same color that was shared with a dear friend. Her eyes widened in shock, a stream of tears flowing as she ran towards Habren. "_Thel nin! _Sister!_"_ and enveloped her in an embrace. Habren was overjoyed as she hugged Idrilin with the same amount of enthusiasm. "Idrilin! Forgive me of my actions! Gilras—"

"Speak no blame towards yourself on what happened to by brother." Idrilin said. "Please do not tell me you have placed that burden on your own shoulders?"

Habren shrugged disdainfully. "Well, I do place a big chunk on the Nazgul." She said. Remembering the servants of Sauron after more than a day of forgetting.

"Habren, I cannot stay long." Said Idrilin. "I must follow Lord Gildor's people to the Grey Havens and sail for Valinor. Will you not come with us? Now that I have found you? I stayed behind in hope that you were still alive, so we can bring you too before the true danger could take over. Come with us, Habren. Please. Everyone is waiting."

Valinor –the sacred land of the Valar. She had heard much of its splendor from the Noldor who had first stepped foot on the shores of Middle-earth. She had heard of the lush green trees, the majestic mountain peaks and the one thing that captured her most –the shores of golden sand laden with precious gem stones like they were as common as flowers in a meadow. She knew the sea would call to her, but she knew it would not be today—or any other day in a long time that would pass. "I am an elf, and I know the sea awaits –Valinor awaits. But my ship does not set sail tonight." She told Idrillin, including of the quest she was on: To escort the hobbits safely to Bree to deal with the Ring of Sauron. Idrilin's heart sank along with her expression. "I understand. It is a burden, but it is yours. You alone can carry it."

"I cannot say only I can carry it, but it has fallen unto me and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Idrilin smiled. "Now that we stand here about to part ways, I think I see how this story is starting to unfold. Every turn of events is woven into the tapestries of Vaire. This is an intended stitch. Maybe all the pain that had happened led you to these Halflings. This is some torch you are being given _thel nin, _but I believe in you. Knowing _who _you are."

Habren tensed yet amidst it smiled. "Do not depend on my own hope, Idril."

Idrilin grinned like she knew something but kept it to herself. A moment passed, and then she grew solemn. "I have a gift for you. I believe it is about time I passed it on to you." She said as she withdrew something from underneath her cloak. The silver-blonde held within her dainty hands a sword encased in a battered sheath. Habren's eyes looked like they were about to bulge right out as her mouth went agape. She reached out a quivering hand towards it, only to call it back sharply like the blade was on fire. "This is…"

"Caransul." Idrilin answered for her. "We managed to find it in front of the Black Gate that day we found your mother's body before –before it faded away. We never got the chance to find my brother's." she said as she swallowed hard, as if she was pushing down the pain from the memory. "Long has it forgotten the taste of battle. I believe it would find better use in your hands."

"Idril I am not—"

"Worthy of it?" she cut her off. "If someone were ever worthy of carrying Gilras' legacy it would be the one closest to him."

Habren did not respond, instead she slowly withdrew the blade with utter care, its fiery metal rising up like a pillar of flame. Fully unsheathed, Caransul gleamed with a reddish, coppery hue, an odd color for a weapon during these times. But it was a special weapon. "When our father entrusted Caransul to my brother, he told us the special alloy used to smith it could withstand immense heat and flame. Rare elven work from the First Age made to fight the dragons under the first Dark Lord." Habren continued to gaze at its craftsmanship, recalling the many times Gilras won many battles with it. All except for…

There was a still silence before Idrilin spoke up. "Were you aware?"

Habren placed full attention on her. "Aware of what?"

"That my brother loved you."

Silence again fell like a rain of knives. "I only learned that day."

"Did you love him back?"

"...I cannot tell." Habren said solemnly. "It was too late before we could find it out together."

"Like I always say, things happen for a reason…" Idrilin whispered before she softly smiled. "I wish you the courage and guidance that would lead you to journey's end. May the stars shine down when we meet again. That I am sure of."

All of a sudden the Idrillin had tears welling up from the corners of her eyes. Habren embraced her friend one last time, now that their parting had come. After a few more farewells, Idrilin blended once again into the procession, their songs flowing along with them. Habren felt quite alone again even with the many elves that still marched on their way. She looked upon Caransul and a thought waded in her mind. Caransul was Gilras' s special sword. To see it again was like holding that old tunic between her fingers that other night. No doubt perils would haunt them the more they got closer to their destination, and she wondered if she truly had the courage she needed to face them. The courage to take risks and the courage to stay out. The courage to act and the courage to accept what fate had decided.

"Courage is found in unlikely places."

Looking up she found Gildor smiling at her encouragingly as if he had read her mind. Taking one last bow of goodbye, the older elf joined his people. Habren continued to listen to the passing of the elves, sitting upon the grass with Caransul firm on her left grip.

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_Men echenim si derthiel_

_Ne chaered hen nu 'aladhath_

_Ngilith or annun-aearath_


	7. Strider and The Wolf

**A/N: Due to an existing concern that has piqued my interest, I would like to clarify a matter regarding Goldberry. No, she is not an elf despite me describing her as such (I believe I called her an elleth?). I would like to clarify she is an entirely different kind of ethnicity that is of a higher degree versus elves. I have not tackled too much on this detail in as much as it is not the central topic of the entire story. However, it may open up as a topic for another fanfic. Thank you!**

Habren had watched a full cycle of day pass her by once. When it had occurred she could barely remember when. This morning she had just observed the last drop of nightfall evaporate into dawn, leaving a pale yellow light from the sun dappling upon the trees. She had felt at peace the moment the last lyric of the passing elves drifted ever westward. She made no move to return back to the home after all that, leaving the hobbits to scout for her the moment they realized she did not show up for breakfast.

That morning the time to depart the halls of Tom Bombadil had come. Saddened with this, the hobbits started to complain amongst themselves. Exchanging words amongst themselves in private while Habren came over to the couple.

"Much gratitude do we give the both of you for your hospitality." She said with a slow bow. "We will not forget it."

"The perils are far from over, young one." Said Goldberry. "Remember courage when you will need it most."

Tom withdrew the blue hat from his head, putting on a solemn smile. "I will lead your company to the edge of the woods safely. Wouldn't want to step into Barrow downs' soil."

They bade Goldberry farewell as she remained on the porch, standing tall like an elven queen, smiling warmly like the sun. It felt an eternity when they finally emerged from the somewhat incessant sea of trees, the sight of the wide green-grey plain a breath of fresh air.

It was Tom's turn to say goodbye. "And here ends our time together, for now. Farewell, good hobbits! Farewell, elf child! May you have a merry journey!"

Habren knew with a quest as heavy as theirs, a 'merry' journey would almost seem impossible. The only 'merry' they would possibly have in the end would only be the Brandybuck. "Thank you." She said nonetheless. The moment the company ventured out of the borders of the woods Habren turned around. "Tom?"

Tom's red eyebrows rose up with a heartwarming smile. "Yes?"

"Should the quest be completed and our hearts set homebound, leading us back into these woods, will we find you again?"

Tom laughed a jolly laugh. "Your answer, it is like my dear Goldberry's lilies. It will take time for them to flower." Then he disappeared into the trees, singing the song they first heard him sing. Habren smiled a little before joining the others.

It started to shower the moment Bree was within their line of sight. A thick blanket of rain making linear patterns in the air and everything it touched the ground. Their cloaks clung to their skin, making the natural night chill all the more less comforting. Their vision became blurry as the constant rain drop splashed onto their eyes.

Habren spat out the water that had sneaked into her mouth. "Almost there."

The gates that gave access to Bree were rather large. Crafted with sheer simplicity and the practicality that resources have allowed. It was crafted with planks of wood, large brass handles on each door and two small metal boxes, one placed higher than the other that served as the gatekeeper's sort of 'peepholes'.

As if on cue, the aforementioned gatekeeper, head hooded from his cloak slid the metal panel to one side, then abruptly shut it in favor of the lower set one when he found no one of the stature of man, apparently missing Habren, who stood a little far away from the hobbits. "What do you want?" he said in a grouchy voice.

"We're headed for the Prancing Pony." Frodo spoke on their behalf.

"Hobbits!" exclaimed the gatekeeper. "Four hobbits! And what's more, out of the Shire by your talk. What business brings you to Bree?"

Habren emerged from the shadows, the most part of her face protruded by her hood. But no one would have missed her eyes, a dark brown that read no emotion. "Good evening." She spoke in a voice filled with authority.

The gatekeeper looked up with confusion, but it swiftly cleared away the moment he saw her. There was a slight tinge of alarm in his face. "Are you—"

Habren did not speak, only lifted the right side of her vest to reveal a silver pin of a many-rayed star upon her tunic. The old gatekeeper cleared his throat. "Forgive me of any misunderstandings... mean no offense. You may enter."

The gates creaked open and Habren took the lead this time. She bent down and gave the gatekeeper an ear when he motioned to her. "Sorry ma'am, was just doing my job. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful."

Habren nodded. "I understand."

The elleth felt the gazes of the hobbits at her back as they followed. They weaved together through people and horse-drawn wagons. Habren surveyed the villagers she passed by, noting one stout, bearded villager eating a fresh carrot. Habren knew Bree like the back of her hand, taking little time consumed in finding the Prancing Pony.

Swaying in the wind and pelted aimlessly by the downpour, the green sign of the Prancing Pony led them on. The warmth from the far hearth when they entered was a good blast on their skin away from the chills that came from outside. The hobbits quickly peeled of their hoods and shook the rain water from their heads. Habren kept her hood on, slightly shifting it from the inside to mask the pointy edges of her ears. She bent to Frodo's ear, "Talk to the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur. Get a room and some dinner and ask for Gandalf. I have errands to run."

She quickly left to find the local blacksmith, taking no more than a few turns on the road to find him busy in his shop hammering away on some sort of sword. "Good evening, sir." She greeted him. The blacksmith halted his work and turned to her, face kept stern at the sight of her. "It's you."

"Aye."

The blacksmith sighed. "What brings you to my humble business?"

"I just need four short swords, fit for a hobbit and I shall leave you to your own devices."

"Aye," he replied as he searched through a shelf filled with piles of iron and steel work. "And I rather not ask what for. You have your own privacy to take care of. Rather too protective of it I fear. Hard to tell you from friend or foe with that hood of yours always plastered on your head. Here, just made 'em this morning." He offered her four identical short swords which Habren quickly surveyed. All four seemed to be in excellent condition. "Thank you." She said.

"I should be thanking you." The blacksmith said. Habren paused in thought before turning back to him. "How's your leg?" she asked. The blacksmith chuckled. "After all these years you still remember." He commented, walking towards a tool on another table with a slight limp in his right leg. "Damage would've been worse if you never arrived in that pitiful ally. Thugs and bandits have been getting around less frequently after you dealt with 'em years ago. You may still be a stranger, I would think you queer and most folks still post wary on your kind, but the people of Bree are ever grateful."

Habren bit her lip but smiled at him with her own kind of gratitude. She said goodbye and made back towards the Prancing Pony. She found the hobbits inside with pints of ale coiled up in their hands, but with thoughtful faces. They relayed to her the information they receive from Butterbur.

"Are you sure?" Habren insisted.

Frodo nodded. "We're sure. Gandalf isn't here."

The elleth did not speak. In her mind she was processing the news and formulating a back-up plan at the same time. Sure, Gandalf had a very different mental clock compared to most but something this urgent would not be enough for him to be tardy. Something was hindering him along the way –or someone.

Habren thought of the traitor they had tried to hunt down all those years ago. The mission she dared not remember. For all that she knew, the traitor might actually be the one endangering her teacher.

She did not notice Frodo call out to a rather busy Butterbur. The good-natured innkeeper bent down. "Excuse me," started Frodo. "that man in the corner, who is he?" Butterbur started to look worried. "What his right name is, I never heard, but round here he's known as Strider. He's one of them Rangers, dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds." He then notices Habren from across the table, arms crossed and her expressions shadowed by her hood. The elleth had a queer skill of becoming unnoticed for a short while here in Bree, which, along with previous events and her dark grey hood in turn led to her alias. Unnoticed at first, but when emerged from the darkness was as imposing as a,

"The W-wolf." Laughed Butterbur nervously. "H-he a, erm, friend of yours?"

"Barliman," She greeted. "I can't say I know him."

"W-well then, I better be –um, off." Butterbur hastily nodded to her, gave a few quick double-takes and scurried off like another customer was calling for his attention.

Pippin snorted a laugh. "The Wolf?"

Habren fiddled with her hood. "Got the nickname years ago, when last I visited Bree. A couple of criminals were beating down the blacksmith's son for not giving them any money and I stepped in the way. Knocked the living light out of them all. Folks say I looked as predatory as a she-wolf making some kind of frontal assault from the shadows. I wonder if they've noticed I'm an elf yet."

"You looked like you haven't age at all." Smirked Frodo. "They'll realize."

"But all my concern falls on that Strider." said Sam. "He's done nothing but stare at us ever since we got here."

"I'll speak with him." Said Habren as she lifted herself up without another word. In all her years, why hasn't she heard of this Strider? Maybe he just came up these past seventeen years. No one would dare pose as a Ranger, so anyone brave enough to take on the role had a low urge for fraud. If this man is one of the Dunedain, surely something interesting can come up from him.

"Milady." Strider greeted her as she approached.

Habren sat down leisurely like the man before her could be of no high threat, though she kept a wary eye if ever he foolishly attempted to stab her with a knife. Or crush her skull with his tankard. "I'm the Wolf inside these village walls –Strider."

Habren took a better look at him. Even from here she cannot see his face, but she saw that little glint in his eyes with some nostalgic effect on her she couldn't explain to herself. One hand was pre-occupied with a pipe, the smoke swirling in lofty curlicues. He had a scruffy short beard like he never knew what a shaver was in weeks. "We shady folk with our hoods always get the brand of an outsider. No one will easily trust us."

"So can we trust each other?" questioned Habren. "If you are a Ranger, where shines the star?"

Strider, with his pipe-less hand drew his cape away from one side like a dark green curtain, and like it was embedded into a black, cotton sky underneath another layer which was his jacket, was the symbol of the Rangers of the North. Habren's false calmness turn into a sincere one. She heard herself sigh in relief. "I was worried for a moment there."

"Just because I have the badge?"

"That badge is sacred to our cause! And besides, I'm exhausted."

Strider smirked. "You let our guard down too easily."

"I let my guard down at the right time."

"…You sound like someone I know."

"Do I now?"

"We may be Rangers both," said Strider. "But we do not know each other to truly share trust. For one, I do not think you are human. You're entire aura tells me so." Habren's eyebrows furrowed. He was right, they didn't really know each other well enough, yet just a moment ago they had talked with so much casualty –as if by an invisible aspect, they knew each other.

But no one could talk next. Habren's ears perked up from underneath her hood when she heard Pippin yell. There was a glint of gold that was rising from the ground. The ring. It all came so fast Habren couldn't react. One second the ring was airborne, the next she saw Frodo then again, he was gone. Habren darted forward to where he had disappeared, trying to assess which direction the hobbit went in his invisible state. She needed to distract the townsfolk, she mustn't let Frodo get into more trouble.

It was by instinct, but Habren raised both of her hands. A thought ghosted inside her mind, too intangible to understand what she was planning to do. She shut her eyes, and with a swift move she slammed both palms unto a nearby table, letting all the tankards—full and empty jump and crash into the floor, the amber color of beer washing onto the ground. She fluttered her eyes open and she felt her eyebrows rise so high it could probably rival the peaks of the Misty Mountains. All around her, every single person she saw were sprawled on the floor like some drunken party had just fanned out. Her knees buckled a bit, her hand grabbing on a table edge to keep her from stumbling. The thoughts rushed in swiftly. "Sleep."

So far, she had the advantage. Taking the opportunity, she collected as many tankards as she could, sprawled them all over the floor, coiled some within the hands of a few. After quickly relishing in her handiwork she searched for the hobbits. They were nowhere to be seen. She looked sharply around. Strider was gone too.

She picked up the voices of the hobbits in one room somewhere on the second floor and she charged straight ahead, Caransul already drawn out of its sheath. The door was left open and the first thing that came to sight of a man in dark clothes and a dark green cloak before the hobbits. A perfect position. She leaped like the she-wolf she was, an escaped battle cry piercing the quietness. There was a loud _thud _and Strider's hood flew back a bit, the Ranger pinned to the ground by the neck, Caransul towering above him. But before Habren could clearly see his face in the darkness he gave the elleth a generous smash on the head, staggering Habren and allowing him in turn to pin her to the wall next to the window, his own sword hovering close to her neck. The force was so strong Habren's lungs locked out of breath. The hobbits screamed for her name.

Strider clutched her hood and yanked it off of her head, elven features exposed by the moonlight from the window. She glared at him automatically, her teeth gritted. That was when she finally found his face. His dark hair looked unkempt, like along with his weathered clothes he forgot about maintenance altogether. His eyebrows looked sparse, but its shape still evident. He had clear blue eyes, a sort of blue that reminded her of someone. The longer she observed him, the more she slipped away from her wrath. Memories started piecing together like a puzzle, connecting to the face before her. He looked so different, so much older, wiser, and weary.

She finally realized and her demeanor became calm. She noticed Strider had observed her as well, but not in the face of recognition she experienced –it was a different kind of recognition. The grip around her neck had loosened, but Habren was too overwhelmed to feel the air rush back into her like a hurricane.

"Those eyes were Arathorn's." She muttered. She was there when he died. She was there when they took his son. Strider's eyes grew wide and he yanked on her arm towards the outside. "Not here."

"Where are you taking her?!" Frodo exclaimed in alarm.

"Fro, stay there!" Habren said in a way that sounded like a command.

The pair finally stopped in an empty room. Strider shut the door hastily before turning towards Habren. "What do you know of Arathorn?"

"I was there during the raid on his village! And I know enough to recognize his own son! After all these years, after all this time, Estel? Is it really you?"

Strider turned stiffer. "How do you know that name?"

Habren moved toward him a little. "Don't tell me you've forgotten? You were but a child then. We escorted you and your mother to Imladris. I even held your tiny hand."

Strider's eyes grew solemn. "Your kindness I have not forgotten, but forgive me, I cannot recognize you."

Habren sighed. "I did leave the next day. But that look you gave me earlier, you recognized me. Why is it now that I do not exist in your memory?"

"I saw someone," Started Strider quietly. "But it was not her."

Habren could not say anything else.

"Something is going on in our present time." Said Strider. "A rumor of Black Riders have been circling around. They say they have attacked Sarn Ford."

"No! Halbarad and the others—"

"Halbarad lives. But the casualties are great in number."

"Everything seems to be falling apart." Said Habren. "The Riders are still on our trail."

Strider made a brisk pacing towards the door. "Then we need to divert their course."


End file.
